The Ivory Resonance
The penthouse in Manhattan was a cathedral of glass and chrome, but Julian lived in its shadows. Once the darling of the Carnegie Hall, a virtuoso whose touch could make a piano weep, he was now a ghost in a tailored suit. His only remaining asset was a 1924 Steinway, a monolith of polished ebony that occupied the center of his living room. The rent was three months overdue. The landlord's...
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